Page 14 of The Deer and the Dragon
The day was over. I’d survived the crowd, the noise, the lights, the brush with fear and the brush with my past. It was time to kick off my shoes, unhook my bra, and eat ice cream directly from the tub while watching the unhinged professor on the History Channel tell the world about how aliens had built the pyramids.
I locked my car, flinching at the horn’s chirp of confirmation, regretting shattering my newfound silence. Even the click of my heels was too loud. I craved nothingness, and every noise infringed on my need for reprieve. As the door to the garage closed, I held my breath and hoped my favorite receptionist was working so that I could avoid idle chitchat while crossing the lobby. My eyes stayed down as I replaced my building card and fished through my tote for my phone. In case someone else was on shift, I wanted to have a faux conversation at the ready to hold up an apologetic finger and halt any further small talk in its place. It was a selfish thing to hope, but then again, I was allowed to be greedy about my desire for peace.
A tingle started somewhere between my shoulder blades, spreading out like wings as it filled me. I abandoned my search for my phone, hand lowering from my purse. Something felt different even before I turned the corner. My steps slowed, ears straining for a noise, a smell, anything unusual.
I turned the corner to see…nothing.
In three years, the desk had never been left unattended. Even if the on-duty receptionist needed something, they would grab someone from security to wait by the door. My steps slowed as I stretched out my intuition, allowing its instinctual fingers to prod the space around me. I stopped, a sliver of adrenaline piercing me like a needle. I scanned the atrium but saw nothing out of the ordinary. A few careful steps toward the desk showed a perfectly normal, tidy station.A half-eaten cup of noodles sat by the computer—evidence that the receptionist had been there only moments prior. I stared at the vacant chair for a while, allowing the quiet classical music that was always piped through the building to cover my uncertainty. I peered at the sleek computer to see half of its screen dedicated to live footage of the building.
Nothing moved.
I dismissed the chill as paranoia. It had been a stressful day, and I’d arguably been watching too many horror movies. I couldn’t help it if fear was better than boredom and I enjoyed the schadenfreude of watching stupid people die. After all, if they expected to survive, why did they always runupthe stairs when a killer entered their house?
The gratuitous violence slipped from my mind as I let go of the irrational nagging sensation. I blew out a breath, expelling lingering anxiety as I abandoned the room and headed for the elevator bank. I hit the button and frowned as the red digits lit up to display its quiet descent from somewhere up above. I’d been so spoiled to have an elevator waiting on ground level each night that even the smallest inconvenience made me feel disenfranchised. It was the first-worldiest of problems, but I was tired, and tired people are grouchy no matter how spoiled they are.
I stepped into the elevator but couldn’t keep my forehead from creasing as my eyebrows met in the middle. I couldn’t justify the frown that plagued me.
Generally, the toils of the day bled from me with the gravitational pull of the earth, each ascending floor shedding new layers of exhaustion as I drew closer and closer to home. Tonight, my nerves thickened as the numbers ticked upward. When the metallic doors opened, I stayed in the elevator. I couldn’t explain my reluctance to leave the safety of the rectangle.
Nothing had happened. There was nothing wrong. Nothing.
I stuck my palm out just as the doors began to close. Theybounced harmlessly off my hand before I stepped into the hall. Six steps to my door. Two long breaths. Three seconds of allowing my rose-gold card to hover above the pad before I pressed it into the door. The mechanisms released and the door eased open. I gave it a gentle shove and allowed the light from the hall to pour into the dark room.
In my hand, my phone buzzed.
(Kirby) Hey, when you get home can you send me that song? The really sad one that gave me like three new reasons to be depressed?
I hit the dial button, and Kirby picked up on the first ring.
I could hear the sounds of cooking and party chatter in the background as they came on the line. “Listen,” they said through a short, annoyed sigh, “I don’t know the name of it if that’s why you’re calling. If I knew it, I would have searched for it myself.”
“No,” I said, “I just had a weird feeling and thought it would be better to be on the phone.”
On the other end, Kirby quieted. “Where are you?”
“Home,” I said.
Their relief was palpable. “Jesus H. Christ, don’t worry me like that. Did you hear a ghost?”
I wished it were anything that logical. I was still shaking my head before realizing I hadn’t answered. “No, I just have an uncanny feeling. I’m standing in my hallway.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
My face fell. This was the question I’d needed to get me to stop being a pussy and enter my apartment. Kirby was a good friend, and I knew their offer was sincere. Even if I’d wanted them to come over, would I just stand in the hallway for thirty minutes until they arrived? Besides, they were clearly entertaining guests. I exhaled dramatically and crossed the threshold, closing the door behind me. I kicked off myshoes and tossed my purse onto the island that separated my living room from my kitchen. I rallied my energy as I grinned mischievously into the phone, asking, “Wait, is today Outlook calendar night?”
The one night per week that their synced calendars matched up with everyone else’s in their polycule.
“You know it,” they practically sang from the other end. “Just making pasta before…”
“Don’t tell me.” I laughed, not needing to hear the detail of how they’d synced their schedules to make their unicorn life work. “Also, don’t get too full. Go have fun, you freak.”
“Group sex is not freaky. You’re just boring.”
“Go to bed, vet. You have to get back to the horse-pital in the morning. I wouldn’t want a hungover party surgeon digging in my livestock’s guts.”
“I’m a veterinary surgeon. Fuck you.”
I grinned. “Whatever, horse girl.”
